Ten Years Later
by lux.astraea
Summary: He's back and it's been 10 years. Gen. Written for a friend's birthday on LJ.


A/N The timeline on HPL says Lily Luna Potter was born in 2008 – ten years after Severus' death. That's the time I've written this.

"I'm sorry, _what_ did you say?"

"Well... I... Look, that's what Seamus told me, Hermione."

"But... What!? How?!" She yelled, standing up and pacing, one hand on her forehead rubbing as if it would somehow sort out the mess in her head.

"Look, don't shoot the messenger," Ron said warily, holding his hands up as if in surrender. "I'm only telling you what Kingsley told me. Now... do you think we should tell Harry?"

Hermione stopped her pacing and turned to face her ex-husband. "Harry? Of course we tell him!" she said, moving to get her cloak and shoes.

"But–" Ron began but Hermione cut him off.

"Ron, think about it. If he finds out we knew and didn't tell him he'll go ballistic. Remember what happened when we didn't tell him about the divorce straight away?"

"Well, yeah," he replied shuddering a little at the memory. "Though I still say it's not like it was any of his business. I don't know why he got so worked up, it was only a couple of months..."

Hermione sighed and fastened the tie on her outdoor cloak, motioning to Ron to follow her out of the house. "Yes, well."

Ron nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, waiting while Hermione locked and warded the door to her house. "To Harry's house?" he suggested when she turned around to face him.

"You go there, I'm going to go see Snape first."

Ron frowned, puzzled at her decision. "Why?"

"I want to talk to him, to see him with my own eyes, of course. It's been ten years, Ron!"

Ron sighed as if he were heavily put upon and nodded albeit reluctantly. "See you there then... I suppose I'll break the news?"

"If you like," Hermione replied, "You said he was staying at The Three Broomsticks?"

Ron nodded and with a quiet 'crack' she was gone.

Arriving at the pub-come-inn, Hermione shook off the snow from her cloak and closed the door behind herself. It was quiet – not unusual for a mid-week afternoon. Glancing around the room she saw three men huddled together in one corner, casting the odd glance about the room as they discussed whatever it was they were talking about. In the opposite corner, near the back of the room sat a figure with his back to the door, one hand twisting a glass of something on the table top.

Wondering, Hermione slowly made her way over to the figure.

"I did wonder how long it would take before you turned up, Miss Granger." said the voice of a man she'd seen die ten years previous.

Hermione took a deep breath and moved to the other side of the table, sitting down on the bench before looking into the face of the man opposite her.

"Hello, Sir," she said quietly, her voice small. "Well, I had to see it to believe it, so they say."

He smirked and took a sip from his glass – Firewhiskey she assumed from the colour. "Now you've seen, but do you believe?" he asked, one eyebrow raising in question.

Hermione sat back and undid the top of her cloak, pushing it off her shoulders with a shrug. "I suppose," she replied, signalling the waitress for her attention. "But I suppose what I really would like to know is why you're here – or should I say back – now. You've spent the last ten years where? So why come back?"

He took another sip of his drink and sat quietly while Hermione ordered her drink – a Butterbeer for nostalgia's sake. "So?" she prompted.

He studied her for a few moments, taking in the ten years that had changed her face, her confidence, her very being and adjusted his position on his seat before beginning. "I've spent the last ten years, Miss Granger, out of the way, living my life as I wanted to for once. About that, that is all I will say," he paused, taking another drink and signalling for another to the waitress who was on her way with Hermione's but turned to get his before she arrived. "As for why I am back... I thought that it was about time I sorted out the loose ends I left here." He looked up at her from his perusal of the glass in his hand.

Hermione stopped herself from biting her lip, biting her tongue instead and stopping herself from blurting out the myriad of questions she was all but burning to ask him. Nodding she accepted the drink from the waitress and took a gulp before looking back at him. "I see," she said, not knowing what response he was expecting. It had been ten years, after all.

They both sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke again, catching her attention. "So, Potter and the Weasley girl married?" he asked, a tone of sarcasm barely hidden in his voice.

"Er, yes, they did. They have two children now. Another one on the way, they're hoping for a girl this time what with having James and Albus already. The boys are nagging for one, too," Hermione said. She knew she was twittering but it all came out in a rush and she stopped when his head shot up at the name 'Albus'.

"_Albus_?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Yes... Albus Severus," she clarified, knowing that he'd probably not take _that_ particularly well, who ever it came from.

"_Potter_ named his son after... Albus... _and_ me?!" his voice was more a hiss than anything and Hermione suddenly wished she was elsewhere. He took a gulp of his drink and then another and Hermione jumped as he threw back his head and laughed, catching the attention of the few others in the room. "Oh Merlin!," he said before bursting into low laughter again and putting his drink down on the table with a heavy 'thunk'. "I don't think I've ever heard something so trite!"

"What?" Hermione asked, causing him to sober a little.

"Well, he hated me, I hated him. Yet somehow he saw fit to name his son after me because of the bloody war! Circe and Nimue that boy's always been an oddball. I'll bet James' middle name is Sirius, yes?"

Hermione nodded, still shocked by his reaction.

"Figures," he said, a smirk about his lips as he ran a hand through his grey-streaked hair. "If there was one thing in the world you could count on, it's a Potter being sentimental."

Taking a sip from her Butterbeer, Hermione smiled. She had to agree, Harry did have an unusual tendency to get that way. Especially at the anniversary of the war and such.

"And what of you and Ronald?" he asked, bringing her out of her introspection. "Married?"

"We were," she replied, "but not for long. It was a mistake and we both knew it, so we divorced... we're still close though."

He nodded. "Glad to see you haven't turned into another Weasley baby factory," he said a little harshly. "Molly was, in her youth, very bright and her decision to stay at home – while perfectly acceptable – was in my opinion a waste of her intelligence, to say the least."

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored his statement. Truth be told, a part of her agreed with him, but she firmly believed that it was up to the individual and something told her that Molly made that choice entirely on her own.

"I ought to go," she said, checking the time. It was later than she realised and she knew that if she left Ron to deal with Harry for too long he'd never hear the end of it. "Ron's telling Harry about you and I ought to go... help," she explained when he gave her a questioning look.

"I see," he replied, standing as she stood to put her cloak back on. "Perhaps I should come with you?" he said, collecting his own cloak. "After all, if I'm there at least he's not going to run off trying to find me, is he?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, "I suppose so, Sir. But... can I ask one thing?"

He turned to face her, fastening his cloak about his shoulders. "Yes?"

"How did you survive?"

"Sheer dumb luck," he said wryly. "And a healthy dose of anti-venom, of course."


End file.
